


A Caveat in the Agreement

by AngeliaDark



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is soft for Angel, And a wee bit of a possessive streak, Angel needs a hug and a trip to the aquarium, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Friendship, Implied Sexual Abuse, M/M, No contracts here only unhealthy dependency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: Camaraderie is based on a mutual agreement of respect; at least, that's how it was for the Radio Demon and those he held in at least some regard.  A broken agreement is the least of his worries when he finds what caused it in the first place.And Alastor does not like his agreements being broken.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 590





	A Caveat in the Agreement

Ever since coming to this Hotel with the hopes of broadening his entertainment, Alastor wasn’t sure when he found himself settled down to a mostly domestic affair among the demons here. Granted, he didn’t LIVE at the Hotel the way Husk and Niffty did, but he was around enough to be given a solid place in their little menagerie.

And he had to admit, it was...nice. Having some people whose first reaction of him wasn’t fear. Niffty was a pleaser whom he was sure HAD no fear to speak of, Husk had traded out fear for extreme contempt ages ago, Charlie went from trepidation to excitement at his presence, and Vaggie...well, he was just happy she stopped holding sharp objects at all times when he walked into a room.

The one who really initially baffled and later surprised him was Angel Dust.

Granted, he thought he’d finally had a BINGO card of every possible reaction or greeting to his presence. Running, screaming, shoot-first-then-run-screaming, threats, distrust, utter unveiled contempt.

“I can suck your dick” was an entirely new one that threw him off entirely for just a second before he was able to collect himself and move on with his spiel to charm the princess. Still, even after, he made sure to keep a respectable distance, knowing of Angel’s...promiscuous reputation.

It was a surprise then when after all was settled and done, his distance was somewhat unwarranted. Angel was flirty, but he was playful instead of forceful about it. He flirted with everyone and kept it friendly, and knew when to back of when enough became enough. It was with that in mind that gave Alastor the mind to stick around a bit more and see what Angel Dust was  _ really _ about.

Quite a lot, actually.

In addition to being of similar age at the times of their deaths, they came from only a decade’s worth of each other in death and grew up with similar taste in music and picture entertainment, though Angel Dust had seen the rise in broader and more diverse picture shows after Alastor’s death in ‘33, including more pictures in color. It prompted movie nights, where Angel brought up a bunch of old movies within his lifetime, like Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, and even some animated films like Snow White, which Alastor missed by just a few years, and Bambi, to Alastor’s chagrin.

That wasn’t to say Angel was interested just in film, he was also a huge fan of stage performance, having seen Pirates of Penzance, Four Saints in Three Acts, Oklahoma!, and Princess Ida in person in his time before death, and had a familial love of Italian opera.

And that wasn't even to mention Angel's prowess in the kitchen. Alastor was no fan of sweets, but Angel's zeppoles actually beat his beignets by a decent shot. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. 

‘Cultured’ wouldn’t exactly be an adjective Alastor would have pinned to Angel Dust, but it was one of the few ways Alastor enjoyed being proven wrong. Happy surprises abound, really. It also helped that minus the vulgarity, he and Angel shared a similar sense of humor and an appreciation for practical joking. After some time, Alastor found himself genuinely  _ liking _ Angel’s company and at a point even sought it out once and a while.

With that, there were some unspoken but understood rules; on Alastor’s part, no full-contact touching without his approval, and on Angel’s, no talking about work. Ever. It was something well understood between them and kept to the utmost of their abilities.

It was with that in mind that gave Alastor some serious pause when he found himself downstairs in the lobby with a book from the new library he and Charlie had amassed earlier that week, and his ear flicked upon hearing the front door open and then close.

Strange, not even a knock, he thought, standing and going to greet a potential new ~~victim~~ patron when his greeting snuffed out upon seeing Angel Dust stumble into the Hotel instead.

Alastor’s smile twitched, wondering just why Angel was out after curfew when he recalled seeing the schedule earlier and noticing it was one of Angel’s late work nights. Marvelous, he thought dryly, intending on making good on Angel’s unspoken rule in not discussing work and going back to his book when he noticed the spider leaning over the front of Husk’s bar and rummaging around noisily for a bottle of...something or the other.

Oh that just wouldn’t do at all, he thought with a huff, making his way over and using his microphone to tap on Angel’s shoulder. “Angel Dust, I’m quite sure you’re not supposed to be rooting through the alcohol stash unsupervised.”

Angel leaned back, righting himself against the bar, and Alastor found himself almost grimacing at the sight. He had never really been around when Angel came back from work, only knowing when it was when Angel came down late the next morning rabid for coffee. Now, he could see heavily smudged makeup, mussed hair, and wrinkled clothing, and that wasn’t even touching base on the heavy concocted smell of liquor, spice, Angel’s sweet perfume, and an undertone similar to permanent marker. Even without his already-sensitive sense of smell, it was nauseating, prompting him to take a step back for his own sake.

The spider didn’t seem to mind or care, staring at Alastor for a moment like he was trying to connect a couple dots before he broke out into a grin. “Smiles, hey!” he exclaimed, as though actually surprised to see him. “Lookin’ good, hot stuff, how ya been?”

Alastor definitely sensed something off in a most uncomfortable sense. Angel’s flirtatious moniker aside, the spider almost sounded like he was about to pitch a sale, which didn’t exactly bode well for either of them. “I think you need to go to bed,” he stated frankly. “It’s -” He took a quick look at the clock. “ -almost two-thirty as it is.”

Angel let out a dismissive ‘pff’ and waved his hand. “That’s fuckin’ baby bedtime,” he slurred, propping an arm on the bar and leaning his head on his hand. “Puh-lenty of time for some fun of our own.”

Red flag.

Alastor’s lip curled, leaning back slightly. “I disagree,” he replied. “Need I remind you of our agreement, Angel?”

“What agreement? I don’t ‘member havin’ any agreement with ya.” Angel leaned in, almost invading Alastor’s personal bubble space. “But we can make an agreement right now, huh?”

“Angel -”

“I’ll even make it a freebie. No cash or favors, just you, me, and nothin’ but a johnny bag between us.”

“ _ Angel _ -”

“So wuddya say, Smiles?” Angel suddenly pitched forward, his primary arms slinging around Alastor’s frozen shoulders to keep himself upright. “Wanna be my strawberry pimp tonight?”

It took every ounce of strength and self-control to not hurl Angel Dust into the wall, let alone to literally tear the spider in half where he stood. Only the very small modicum of respect they’d built that was very rapidly dwindling kept him from doing so. He instead reined in his reflexive temper and grabbed Angel’s arms, prying them from his shoulders. “You are on  _ very _ thin ice, Angel,” he bit out, the radio tin in his voice garbling slightly. “It is in your best interest to back away and go to your room and PRAY this isn’t something you’re consciously doing.”

Angel’s expression seemed to flicker between hesitation, confusion, shame, and defiance all at once within the same half-second timeframe, before his secondary hands reached up to curl around Alastor’s back, pulling them closer again. “C’mon Al, don’t be like that!” he all but whined. “Anything you want, I can make it worth your while -” He winced a little when Alastor’s grip on his primary arms tightened. “Hey-”

“Angel. Let. Me. Go.” To Alastor’s growing fury, the spider only clung to him tighter. 

“Please, just let me -”

“Angel!”

“ -anything at all, I just- “

“GET OFF OF ME!” 

Alastor hurled Angel to the floor, his aura crackling with bad radio frequency and eyes going dial-shaped. His smile was  _ furious _ and promising blood as his microphone found its way back into his hands, an arm drawing back as though to strike Angel with it. **“** **_Y̛O͜U̸ ͘D̛̕I̷̡S̶̢G͢͝U͘͘S͝T̨͝I̕N̶͝G̢͢ Ļ͘I̷TŢ̵͞LE-!_ ”**

“I’m sorry, Val!”

The red cleared from Alastor’s vision just enough to see Angel curled up and cowering at his feet, primary arms lifted protectively over his face with his secondary crossed over his middle. The moment of clarity had Alastor acknowledge how he’d been addressed, seeing Angel’s body curl up even tighter like a dying spider.

“I’m sorry Mista Valentino, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just give me another  _ chance _ -!” He began crying out a tangent of that vein, hardly stopping for breath despite the way his body was heaving in dry sobs.

Angel was not at all in his right mind, Alastor realized, his aura dying down to a soft simmer as he stared at the pitiful creature before him. And the more he looked - _ really  _ looked- the more he saw.

Small smears of blood on Angel’s fur, on the arms, neck, shoulders, and the back of the head. Lower still were some of the same on Angel’s thighs, the ridden-up skirt showing even more unpleasantness with an off-color tackiness smeared with more blood between the spider’s legs.

A sudden unfamiliar jolt of helplessness ran through Alastor’s mind with the realization that he had no idea of how to deal with this. He found himself looking around as though an answer would come jumping out of the walls to guide him, but when no such miracle had occurred, he went with the next best idea he had in his arsenal and used some of his shadow magic to take both himself and Angel Dust up to the spider’s room.

Angel was still curled up in a little ball, not noticing the sudden change in locale, and Alastor toyed with the idea of simply leaving the spider there to sleep it off and pray he didn’t remember it in the morning when Angel suddenly began scratching at his head and arms, the whimpers turning into growls.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK-!” Angel bit out, his heaving sobs worsening. “Goddamn fucking -son of a BITCH!” He ground his face into the floor, slamming his fists down hard as he finally broke into crying.

As  _ badly _ as Alastor just wanted to leave, something he’d come to identify as the starved remains of his conscience wouldn’t let him. A soft snuffling nearby drew his attention to the end of Angel’s bed, where Fat Nuggets was peering out looking desperate to comfort his spider-papa but being smart enough to know it would be unwise to get close. When the pig actually looked up at Alastor for some manner of guidance, Alastor felt as though he had entered a fresh new Hell of his own, one where he made friends with and pitied drugged and drunk prostitutes and where a literal goddamned pig was giving him instructions to console said drugged and drunk prostitute. 

Still, he couldn’t deny that this was very very wrong in terms of what he’d come to expect and appreciate about Angel Dust. It was the other side of that coin, the caveat to being close to the spider and seeing what Hell did to someone who didn’t have the power or influence to give as good as he got. Seeing someone else’s Hell was so very different when Alastor himself had nothing to do with it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Angel’s hand clutch at his foot, looking down to see Angel’s broken black eye staring up at him full of tears and regret. 

“....’m sorry….”

This apology wasn’t for Val. It was for him. And Alastor had never been more unwanting of such an apology in his life and unlife. 

Alastor let out a sigh, unable to keep even the barest minimum of his aura going. The anger simply wasn’t there anymore, having been replaced almost entirely with pity. He stepped back out of Angel’s hold only to kneel down, just out of Angel’s reach to avoid any further unwarranted touching, before returning the quid pro quo of their now mutually-broken agreements. 

“What happened.”

When Angel broke into sobs again, Alastor only caught about a quarter of what the spider was actually trying to say through the haze of exhaustion, drugs, and alcohol buzzing through his brain, and that wasn’t even mentioning the emotional cost. Still, Alastor was able to piece together just enough for his fury to ignite again, this time  _ for _ Angel instead of in spite of him.

Truly he should have broken his agreement sooner, if only to spare both Angel and himself of this horrible night.

He looked over Angel’s pitiful, broken, and used form for another moment before lifting his hand and snapping his fingers sharply. A wave of black flames ran over Angel’s body, cleaning it of all minor injury and bodily fluids; no substitute for a thorough bathing, but it would have to do for now just to get the spider into bed. He took a moment to mentally brace himself before tucking his hands under Angel’s body and lifting the spider up. 

One of Angel’s hands shot up to grab his lapel, but this time Alastor saw it as a gesture to avoid ‘falling’, which was certain Angel was feeling considering the tank in equilibrium he was no doubt experiencing. He endured it as he carried Angel to the bed and laid him out, though Angel’s hand stayed clenched into his jacket. “Angel…” he said as a soft warning.

“....izzhe gone?” Angel whispered in almost fear, all eight eyes darting around for the unseen threat. 

Alastor big back a sigh. “Yes, he’s gone,” he told Angel, gently prying the spider’s hand from his jacket to little avail. “Angel-”

“I just...I thought if…” Angel’s unfocused eyes clouded with shame and self-loathing. “...stupid fuckin’ whore…”

Might as well get it all out in one night to avoid prolonging the embarrassment. “What did you think, Angel?” Angel didn’t respond, the look of shame only deepening. “Angel.”

Angel’s fingers slackened on Alastor’s jacket to instead rub the material lightly, like he was making sure it was real as his eyes filled with tears. “....if I were yours I wouldn’t be his anymore...”

As he dissolved into quiet crying and hiccups, letting his hand drop from Alastor’s jacket, Alastor quietly stared down at the demon he had come to know and tolerate to the closest semblance of ‘friendship’ that he could think of. It was only when the hiccups died down and things went quiet that he saw that Angel had cried himself to sleep, in a calm enough state that Fat Nuggets used the small step-stairs next to the bed to climb on and curl up next to his owner. 

Alastor silently stepped away, making sure Angel wouldn’t wake up again before fading into a shadow and reappearing into his office, sitting down in his chair with a somber, thoughtful look.

He didn’t very much like feeling this way, angry on another’s behalf, pitying some poor unfortunate soul and wanting to actually do something _about_ something _for_ someone else. It was so much easier to strike deals than it was to comfort someone. 

So, he turned that little staple around and felt that righteous anger for himself. Valentino had taken a perfectly good associate and proceeded to physically, mentally, and emotionally wreck him, thus withholding something Alastor wanted back, and wanted back  _ permanently _ .

His shadows flickered and formed into humanoid shapes, eyes aglow with summoned energy and cackling at the thought of finally being let loose for the first time in  _ ages _ by their summoner.

Angel was right, Alastor thought as his smile widened grotesquely, bloodlust simmering under his skin; the night was young and he had  _ so _ much more fun to be had. 

With a flourish of his hand, his microphone sprung into being as Alastor silently left the Hotel with a small cavalcade of shadows in his wake. 

Alastor didn’t value much outside of his own self and power, but anything he did -be it an associate, an investment, a deal, a  _ friend _ \- he would be god damned twice over before he let anyone or anything take it away.


End file.
